


The Great Game

by Ankaret



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Chess, Gen, letterfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ankaret/pseuds/Ankaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Tesla is in self-imposed exile in the catacombs of Rome, he and Watson exchange letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a tattered rose (atr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atr/gifts).



London, 1943

_Knight to king's bishop 3_

What in the name of God and all his little angels made you think _that_ was a good idea, Tesla? Thinking with your fangs again? I have no idea what, precisely, it was that you _said_ to Maj. Gen. Gubbins about the death ray, and still less what he said to Churchill (though I imagine that I could work it out from first principles in the event that I cared) but I do know that I was woken at five this morning by a batch of criminally overenthusiastic young agents of SOE, turning out my cupboards and demanding to know my relationship to you and whether I had any idea of your whereabouts.

Naturally I told them that you were some connection or other of my namesake great-uncle and that I believed you dead. They took away a large number of my papers, including that miniature of Helen and her father of which you know I am particularly fond, and it was only my wit and judgment that kept them from rampaging on through the secret door in the bookcase and into the London Sanctuary proper.

Their nickname, by the by, is the Baker Street Irregulars. How Conan Doyle would have laughed.

Yrs, WATSON

* * *

Rome, 1944

_Nf6, and don't pretend you don't understand algebraic notation. When are you going to come in line with the rest of Europe, and for that matter, the rest of the century?_

Oh, stop complaining that someone threatened the virginity of your precious bookcase. You should see what I have to work with here. I'm having to re-route the electricity I need out of the wiring for _Il Duce_'s private cinema, and my workspace was unpleasantly dank and airless even before something resembling a small cyclone descended upon it in the night. Did you send Druitt?

* * *

London, 1944

_Pawn to queen's bishop 5_

Of course I didn't send Druitt. No one sends Druitt. He turns up all on his own, wreaks whatever mayhem he chooses, and vanishes leaving only his grin behind like the Cheshire Cat. Have you gone quite insane down there in the catacombs?

I am delighted at your empirical disproof of the myth that vampires prefer dark and airless places. Have you considered a series of scientific experiments to test the matter?

* * *

Rome, 1948

_g6_

No. And as for insanity, I'm not the one whose eternal youth relies on a system of hydraulic pumps like something sold at the back of a barber's shop.

How's Griffin?

* * *

London, 1949

_Knight to queen's bishop 3_

It took you four years to come up with that rejoinder? My most sincere congratulations on your rapier wit. Did you have the rapier delivered by land freight?

Griffin is married. I have met the young lady. She is _very_ modern, but seems discreet, and poor Griffin deserves a chance at marital happiness as much as any of us - more, in fact, as I know my own faults and have been forced to a closer acquaintance than I would choose with yours. I shall not even speak of poor Druitt.

* * *

Rome, 1950

_Bg7; or, bishop to king's knight 2, if you really won't come out of the Victorian fog._

I was busy.

Give my congratulations to Griffin. What did Helen wear to the wedding?

* * *

London, 1951

_Pawn to queen 4_

Are you under the impression that I am some kind of connoisseur of women's fashions? I believe she was wearing a hat.

* * *

Rome, 1951

_0-0_

I think - no, I _know_, and when Nikola Tesla knows a thing you can take it to the bank, as dear Edison used to say - that you could have named the shop she bought her ensemble from, the number of guineas she paid, and very likely the pedigree of the silkworms that died to adorn her delicious hide. You just don't feel like telling me.

Protective of her, still, Watson? I always did think you had a soft spot the size of Hertfordshire for our own Helen, though of course you never had a chance, considering that I was also in the running. Not to mention her dislike of your beard - though, of course, were you to shave it off, it might throw your already prominent proboscis into even greater relief.

How goes the wider world without me? Have they set up a prize in my name yet? A scholarship? A university? An international day of mourning? I suppose they have run out of American states to name, which is something of a pity, though at least it means they can't name some benighted square of the Mississippi after Edison.

* * *

London, Christmas 1951

_Presuming that you are castling, and not just doodling an image of your own face in reaction to my letter; Bishop to king's bishop 4_

My feelings towards Helen are none of your damned business.

* * *

Rome, 1952

_d5_

You should check the levels of testosterone in your pump-system, old fellow. If you were to visit, I could tinker with it for you. Bring a bottle. No, two bottles. No, a crate.

Two crates.

* * *

London, 1965

_Queen to queen's knight 3_

Tesla:

I know that we agreed - at least, as much as you were capable of agreeing in your condition, but I believe I took your indiscriminate snarling and spitting in the spirit in which it was meant - to have no further contact after my disastrous visit of 1952, but since Helen is at present travelling overland from Vladivostok to Uzbekistan in search of a lost vampire codex and one can hardly rely upon Druitt, I write to inform you that Griffin is dead. He is survived by a widow, and a daughter, Anna. I have taken on the burden of paying for the child's education and upkeep, and she is under the impression that I am a species of adopted uncle. I felt it was the least I could do under the circumstances.

You are invited to the funeral. The details follow in a separate packet. I will be there, and Helen, too, if she can slip through the Iron Curtain in time. One hardly knows about Druitt. I suspect he will attend in his own fashion, if he can. Griffin was kinder to him than any of the rest of us.

Before you go rampaging about swearing undying revenge, our old friend's death was entirely natural. Too many of his vital organs were compromised by the simple ravages of time. I must admit that it gives me pause - I see my own end reflected in his. (And yes, I can see you there grinning, and saying that you're surprised I can see anything in Griffin, given his soubriquet. Before you ask, no, it will not be an open casket funeral). First Griffin, perhaps next myself, and I believe poor Druitt too must be feeling the march of history written upon his bones. Of course Helen is as blooming as ever, and you - well, perhaps _blooming_ is not the word.

And so the Five become the Four, and are diminished. He was the best of men. I cannot tell you how much he will be missed; nor do I need to. You of all people knew his worth.

Come, old friend. Say farewell. I promise that I will not reproach you with anything.

I do trust that the passage of thirteen years has fully healed you?

Yrs, WATSON  
The Sanctuary  
LONDON

P.S: I suppose you don't need me to arrange freight transport for a crate of your native Carpathian earth, or anything of that nature?

* * *

  


Rome, 1965  
_dxc4_

Smiljan is nowhere near the Carpathians, as you very well know.

Of course I shall come. Be sure that the security arrangements are adequate, or I will make my own. I have heard disturbing rumours that the _Cabalis Nocturnum_ stirs again. Since I don't believe that the Morrigan have risen - I would have heard of it if they had, even here - I wonder who is behind the revival. Some idiot young zealot, I suppose. Why can't they take up Rosicrucianism instead if they want to feel persecuted, or set up a soup-kitchen for needy Abnormals if they want to meet with the scum of the underworld?

Or, if they have delusive dreams of power, they could always go into human politics.

* * *

  


London, 1966  
_Queen captures pawn on queen's bishop 4_

Tesla:

Believe me that I thought long and hard before putting pen to paper to write this letter. First I must thank you for your action in repelling the Cabal's attack in the wake of Griffin's funeral. Your action was both timely and much needed. And the brandy we drank and the conversation that we had in the study - well, if only Druitt and Griffin could have been there, it would have felt like the 1880s over again. Good times, old friend. Good times.

Nevertheless, I must speak. It is not my way to follow the vernacular of this ghastly decade and 'let it all hang out' - which appears to involve expressing oneself in womanish platitudes that would shame that quack Freud - but I _am_ concerned by the change in you. Did you seriously think that you could conceal it from me of all people, especially after the pair of us had worked together on the Jekyll case?

There are two natures at war within you. It is plain to me; it is plain to Helen; and I think it must be plain to others, however you try to hide it. It was ill-judged of me to joke that it was the peaceful race of Bhalasaam fighting with the unregenerate selfishness of Nikola Tesla, and I apologise; you know that I am sometimes more abrasive than I intend, particularly when I am concerned. You are very much the better half of this devil's bargain, whether or not you believe it yourself.

You may believe that have your vampiric urges under control. You do not. You came very close to attacking Mrs. Griffin and the child Anna, and that I will _not_ forgive. Next time it might be Helen. You are not capable of controlling yourself, Tesla. Do not tell me that this is some passing phase. You and I both remember the attack that you made on me in 1952, and how I was forced to drive you off with my sword-stick. (By the by, I was always fond of that sword-stick; if you chanced to keep it about the place after you finally pulled it out of your ribcage, please return it to me care of the London Sanctuary. If you did not keep it, no matter).

If you were to leave your exile, I believe that between us Helen and I might be able to put together a palliative to keep your vampiric nature in check. The advances of this century are astonishing - and, of course, our own discoveries outstrip those of the mundane world by a considerable margin.

Please reply before the end of May, as I am travelling to the Moscow Sanctuary, and it will be hard to receive messages there. I shall need to brush up on my Russian. The fools in office in that benighted nation are trying to collectivise the place, and something must be done to save Kharkov and his staff, not to mention the Abnormal population of rusalkas and domovoi who reside in their care.

Yrs,  
WATSON

* * *

  


Rome, 1966  
_c6_

Watson,

My regards to your sense of superiority. Has it moved into its own lodgings yet, or is it bulging out of the windows of the London Sanctuary and contesting the territory of the staircase with your equally over-developed sense of martyrdom? Only you could offer both help and the company of Helen and contrive to make them both seem unappealing.

First you drive off Druitt, and then you do your considerable best to alienate me. I always wondered whether your insistence on behaving as if Druitt were a miserable buffoon - when you and I know that he is nothing of the sort - came of your wounded pride at being outfoxed by him for so long. Such a defeat cannot have come easily to the great detective. And now you consider _me_ beyond the pale, because of a few little lapses after the funeral! We were all under a lot of strain, and Griffin's merry widow is a toothsome morsel.

I will come nevertheless - but only because I enjoy the spectacle of London shaking off its wartime dullness. I have tickets for a Beatles concert.

You should join me. Have you considered converting the beard into a Kitchener moustache? I hear they're much in vogue. Also sideburns, as first popularised by Druitt.

* * *

  


London, 1978  
_Given that we were able to continue our game in person while you were residing here, I pick up again with Queen to queen's knight 8._

I send this note with another consignment of the medication, and to acquaint you of a change in my address; from this June, I will be taking temporary charge of the New Delhi Sanctuary. Circumstances have made it prudent for me to leave London for a time. The London Sanctuary will be left in the care of Lucan, so if you have any official business, write to him. Perhaps a taste of responsibility will stop him loafing about the place bemoaning his lot; it's hardly as if he is the first member of the House of Lords to discover he's a werewolf.

* * *

  


Rome, 1978  
_b5_

Ahahahaha. What have you done to make London too hot for you? Is it the Cabal? Shapeshifting lizards? Super-intelligent sewer rats taking over the Underground?

* * *

  


New Delhi, 1978  
_Pawn to king's rook 4_

None of the above. The Cabal remain quiescent, the only shapeshifting lizard I know of in London is the M.P for Finchley, and we haven't had any trouble out of the super-intelligent sewer rats since the treaty we brokered with them in 1912.

Incidentally, I don't suppose that you know anything about the thefts from the Vampire Museum in Dusseldorf?

* * *

  


Rome, 1978  
_h5_

Really, Watson, do you seriously suppose that I amuse myself with day trips to Dusseldorf? I have other matters to occupy me here. I suggest that you ask Druitt.

Speaking of Druitt, I was blessed by a visit from him recently. He was good enough to discharge a commission for me in return for my assistance with a medical matter. For some reason he didn't feel like going to you. I can't imagine why.

You would not recognise him as the cultured fellow with whom we used to dine and visit the opera. He has taken to a long leather jacket which must have been worked up from the tanned hide of an entire cow, and is wearing his hair in the most ridiculous style possible. I will say no more than that it involves a towelling headband. It would serve him right if his hair fell out altogether.

Alas, I was unable to be of assistance to him; or rather, he felt the cure would be worse than the ailment, but he did take the time to acquaint me with all the gossip. So your move to New Delhi was a noble sacrifice, intended to discourage the advances of Anna Griffin! It seems that she didn't think of you as an adopted uncle after all, eh?

I think in your place I would not have resisted. How could you, as a man of science, resist the experiment of mixing two strains of the blood of the Five? I suppose that sharing one's residence with a hyper-intelligent invisible two-year-old _would_ be mildly tiresome, but no more so, after all, than the average poltergeist, and I've seen you deal with those.

In any case, given the putative abilities of Miss Griffin - how do you know that she's not already in New Delhi and watching you in your bath?

* * *

  


New Delhi, 1979  
_Knight to king 5_

Tesla,

Please, never send me letters implying that you are imagining me in the bath again.

Yrs, WATSON.

P.S I suppose you know nothing about the recent rash of grave-robbing in Rome's outer cemeteries?

* * *

  


Rome, 1987  
_Kg7_

My last three letters having gone unanswered, I wonder whether this will do any better. Why _are_ you refusing to answer any of my questions about Helen? Whatever your misguided and quite outdated theories of chivalry may lead you to believe, she is very well able to take care of herself; and if you believe that _I_ wish her ill, you are even more of a pompous old fool than I believed. It is, of course, her privilege to fall out of contact with me; but if I have offended her, I think I deserve to know why.

Nor can I see the harm in asking whether she continues to contact you, outside of your communications via the Sanctuary Network. Thank you, by the way, for the most interesting notes concerning plasma screens and satellite communication. I don't think they'll ever catch on.

* * *

  


London, 1987  
_King to king's knight 1_

Helen has her reasons. I would ask that you respect them, and in particular that you do not go gossiping of this to Druitt.

If you are feeling lonely, I could make time for a visit.

* * *

  


Rome, 1987  
_Bc5+_

Oh, very well, Watson, be secretive if you must. It comes of insecurity, you know. One can understand it. Griffin had his happy marriage. Helen loved Druitt and lusted after me, and you - well, you never really caught anyone's eye, did you, unless you count a brief fit of insanity on the part of Anna Griffin? It's the nose that puts women off, you know. In certain lights it blocks out the sun and causes credulous persons to report solar eclipses.

As for the visit, I must decline. Not only do I not wish to socialise with a man who accuses me of being a grave-robber, my experiments are at a delicate stage. I watch over them like a tender father with his offspring; and I think that in the final testing they will prove most satisfactory. This particular series of experiments is so close to my heart, you might say that they have more of _me_ in them than any previous; not to mention more of the electric spark of life which is so precious.

Incidentally, Watson, you will note that from here, checkmate is inevitable. You thought that it was over when I sacrificed my queen; but great power can be gained from a queen's sacrifice; which is something that you, you dogged Queen's knight, will never appreciate. It may be true that no detail slips by you; the wheels in your head may grind more slowly and exactingly than those of God himself; but you have never had my gift for seeing the bigger picture.

Victory will be mine, old friend.

Yours, TESLA.

**Author's Note:**

> Chess moves are from the 'Game of the Century' between Bobby Fischer and Donald Byrne in 1956. All errors in notation are my own.


End file.
